Palmer nodded. “Stigler.”
Kate tried to regain her composure. “Okay, look. If there’s one thing I understand, it’s mental illness. If you think Stigler is a psychopathic killer, I can help you catch him. I did a two-year residency at McLean Hospital, where I worked with violent juvenile psychotics. I have the training and the experience.”
Palmer released a soft exhalation that wasn’t quite a breath. “It’ll have to wait I’m afraid. I’m going away for a while.”
“What for? When?”
“Remember I told you about the medical clinic in Mexico? I’m flying down to Tijuana today. Eight therapy sessions over the course of two weeks.” He glanced over at her. “The Mexican doctors have shared some impressive statistics with me.”
Kate had read about foreign clinics that preyed on vulnerable cancer patients. “Are you sure the procedure is viable?”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t be going through with it if I thought it was a scam. This place is legit, with a good rate of remission. Don’t worry about me. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, not wanting to undermine the hope in his eyes. “Just get well. Focus on your health.” Then another thought occurred to her. “What about Stigler?” she asked. “You told me he wouldn’t come after me—but what if he finds out you’re gone?”
“Nobody knows I’m leaving the country except for you, my ex-wife, and a couple of buddies down at the station. Stigler thinks I have eyes all over the place.” Palmer dug his hand into his pocket and took out a small blue flashdrive, still keeping his eyes on the road. “Hold onto this for me, okay?”
Kate stared at the flashdrive in her hand. “What is it?”
“It’s got everything on it, all my years of research. It connects all the dots. Just in case.”
“In case what?”
“Just in case anything happens to me.”
She shuddered. “Please don’t say that.”
“If it does, I want you to give this to Cody Dunmeyer, my old partner, now Chief Dunmeyer. He’ll know what to do with it. But I’ll be back in two weeks, ready to nail this guy. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to proceed, and I’ve got a plan. I can’t share it with you yet, but trust me… you’re going to be okay.”
She gave a reluctant nod.
They pulled up behind Kate’s car and Palmer put the vehicle in park, then turned in his seat, his expression serious.
“I should give you my emergency contacts,” he said.
Kate handed him her phone, staring out of the passenger window at the woods while he programmed in the information. Strange to think how sinister they’d seemed the night before. Eventually Palmer returned her phone, grinning apologetically.
“Sorry. Modern tech can take me some time.”
Kate grinned back, but it was forced. She hadn’t realized until right that instant just how much he’d changed her life. And now he was abandoning her.
50
BEFORE HEADING HOME, KATE took a detour across town and visited Dr. Holley, who seemed surprised to see her. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“It’s about Patient J.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Ah. So you found my book. Entrez vous.”
He led her into the sunny living room, where “Norwegian Wood” by the Beatles was playing softly in the background. She took a seat on the beige sectional sofa and said, “I know Savannah was only my half-sister. She didn’t look like anyone on our father’s side of the family. But I have the Wolfe nose, among other genetic traits.” She paused. “Henry Blackwood’s daughter Maddie looks quite like Savannah did around that age.”
Holley shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
“My mother never told you who Savannah’s father was?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“And my father doesn’t know anything about it?”
“Not to my knowledge. However, it’s possible he may have read my book and figured it out. I have no way of knowing.” He smiled sympathetically.
Kate sighed with frustration. “You told me you could never betray my mother’s confidences, and yet you spilled all her dirty secrets in your book.”
He shook his head. “No. Patient J is a composite of several women I treated. Patients A through Z are all composites: I changed their names, ages, and physical appearances in order to protect their privacy.”
“You didn’t disguise her enough, obviously.”
“It got a pass from the legal department.” He heaved a sigh. “Anyway, the book is out of print. It sold maybe five thousand copies.”
Kate touched her feverish forehead with her fingers. Just like that, her sister was her half-sister. Her mother had betrayed them. Her father was a cuckold. Everything felt dangerous. It was like walking across a rotten floor—at any second she could go crashing through.
“Should I tell my father?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Dr. Holley advised. “He raised you girls alone, and Savannah was his daughter, whatever the biology. It would be wrong to take that away from him.”
She thumbed tears out of her eyes. “You’re right. It would kill him.”
The old psychiatrist stroked his chin. “You know, when my wife gave birth to our daughter, I fell instantly in love with her. I couldn’t believe that tiny little being was mine. She won my heart. As a parent, you never get over that feeling. You think your arms will always be able to protect her.”
She looked at him intently. “Would you tell me who the father was, even if you knew?”
“No. But my conscience is clear. Your mother took that secret to the grave.”
51
KATE FOUND A PARKING space, retrieved her ring from the glove compartment and slipped it on. She tucked the pepper spray Palmer had given her into her coat pocket and tried not to slip on the icy cobblestones as she made her way toward the building.
She rode the elevator to the eighth floor and fumbled with her keys. Her stomach was in free-fall as she unlocked the door. “James?” she called out.
He met her in the hallway in his wool coat and boots. He kissed her hello.
“Sorry I worried you yesterday,” she said.
“No, the important thing is you’re okay.”
“Can we talk?”
“I was just leaving. I have to consult with Mom’s doctors again. They’re worried about blood clots now. And she’s reporting numbness and tingling.”
“Oh God. How can I help?”
“Come by later on and see her. That’ll cheer her up.”
“Absolutely.”
“Look, Kate.” James took her hand. “I want you to be happy, not scared and stressed out, and I think digging into your sister’s murder is bad for you. But I support whatever you think is best. I just don’t know how to deal with it sometimes.”
Kate squeezed his hand. “We’ll talk later, when your mother’s feeling better.”
He gave her a long hug and left.
Hours later, and bone-tired, she nibbled on a salad and changed for bed. She’d driven to Massachusetts General to visit Vanessa, and back again—alone. James, concerned about deep vein thrombosis, had opted to stay with his mother, while Kate had come home and worked her way through a mass of paperwork. Now she traced her fingers over the small scars on her upper thighs and forearms—little teardrop dimples, tiny nicks in an otherwise smooth surface. She recalled the stab of the thumb tacks, and the accompanying numbness. Cutting herself was like walking into a much clearer reality. She studied the jagged suicide scars on her wrists, the hesitation cuts. She remembered the crackle and snap of pain as the razor sank into her flesh. She had survived all this—she could survive whatever was coming.
*
Kate woke up in the middle of the night with a start. She glanced at her clock. 3:00 AM. It was windy outside, the bulk of winter hunkering against the panes. An unfathomable loneliness crawled underneath her skin.